For Love
by sophiesinlove
Summary: Willow/Tara Femslash Set after season 6, disregarding season 7 Despite her friend’s attempts to comfort her, Willow can’t live without Tara. She is empty, lost. So she decides to follow Tara, for better or for worse, into the underworld. My first Buffy ff
1. The Pain

**For Love**

Willow/Tara Femslash

Tragedy/Romance

Set after season 6, disregarding season 7

Despite her friend's attempts to comfort her, Willow can't live without Tara. She is empty, lost. So she decides to follow Tara, for better or for worse, into the underworld. Into whatever comes after.

Willow opened her sore eyes at the sound of the alarm. Not that she had slept. She'd tried, but the pain wouldn't let her. Mechanically, as a drone or a worker bee might, Willow showered and dressed. She didn't flinch as the hot water burned her skin, leaving her entire body as red and sore as her eyes. She pulled on whatever her hands touched in the closet, not even checking to see if they matched.

Buffy wouldn't approve.

Willow didn't care. Willow was gone now. Just an empty shell, without her beautiful Tara. Without Tara, nothing mattered anymore. Food had no taste, smells couldn't make her mouth water, and she could no longer gasp at the simple beauty of a rose.

Everything reminded her of Tara. She couldn't stop crying. Whoever had decided that at some point you ran out of tears had never lost someone whom they loved as deeply as Willow did Tara. Willow had been crying for 4 straight months now, and the tears were no less.

Willow picked up her brush, meaning to yank it through her hair a few times. (Not that she cared what she looked like anymore- rather, to pacify her friends. Their pity hurt almost as bad as the pain.)

Bringing the brush up to her eyes, Willow stroked the handle, calling back memories of the original owner. A woman with light brown hair; the other half of Willow's soul. There was a clump of such hair stuck in the corner of the brush, the light brown so very different from her own fiery red locks. She extended trembling fingers to touch this little piece that was all that was left of her best friend. That, and a grave.


	2. Empty

**For Love**

Unbidden, but hardly unexpected tears sprang to Willow's eyes. The tears, and the renewed pain that always accompanied them, were familiar now, almost welcome. They meant that she was still alive, something she wasn't sure of anymore.

Still clutching the brush, Willow sank to the floor, her chest heaving, her sobs echoing loudly in the empty room.

Empty. So much was empty. The room. Tara's side of the bed. Willow's heart.

Sometimes, she could still fool herself that none of it was real. Sometimes she just forgot. Many times since Tara's death, Willow had rolled over to kiss her girlfriend good night, or turned to her usual seat in a class. But Tara was never there. The bed was always empty, the seat vacant. Willow was always alone. Each rediscovery of the fact brought on a new round of sobbing, a fresh batch of tears.

Willow was supposed to meet up with "the Scooby gang,' (although it would never be the same...not without Tara), but she couldn't, she just couldn't bear the looks on their faces when they saw she'd been crying again. Again. As if she'd ever stop.


	3. Excuses

**For Love**

Clearing her throat bravely, Willow swallowed and reached for the phone, pressing speed dial 2. (Tara was number 1. Still Was...Willow had never gotten around to changing it. She doubted that she ever would.)

"Hello?" Buffy chirped. She'd obviously been up for a few hours, slaying and all that.

"Hey Buff!" Willow tried to pour as much cheerfulness as she could into the greeting.

"Will!" Buffy cried, sounding relieved, "I haven't heard from you in a while. I thought...never mind. Anyway, you're still coming down to the café, right?"

Willow's voice faltered, "Well, uh that's why I called you, actually. See, I've got a _ton_ of schoolwork and Professor Daniels assigned me this lit paper..." Not entirely a lie. Professor Daniels had assigned her a paper, but she's finished it about a week ago.

"Oh, I have to do that too..." Buffy muttered guiltily. "Well, um, I guess that's okay, Willow. I'll drop by before Patrol, or something."

"Okay. I'll see ya."

"See ya." The line went dead.

Willow sighed. She didn't have a single class today. What was she going to do with herself? She shivered. It was cold, and empty Willow pretty much did what her body told her. She replaced the phone in its cradle, crossing to the closet and pulling out the first soft thing she grasped.

Willow never even looked at it, but the second she had wrapped it around herself, she knew. This was Tara's sweater. (One of the _many_ things of Tara's she would never throw away. _Ever._) She could smell her friend in it, feel her soft skin once again. But this time, Willow didn't cry. She got angry.

"Why should I have to hurt so much?!" Willow asked the empty room. "I'm a _witch_ for Pete's sake! And a darn good one!" (That made her think of Tara. Tara was the most powerful witch Willow had ever met. The strongest, too. Her skills far outweighed Willow's own.)

"Who cares about the _greater good_ anymore? The _greater good_ took her away. It took Tara away from me, so who says I should believe in it, trust in it, _work_ for it? I WON'T!"

Willow's mouth set in a grim line. "I'm going to be selfish, for once. I don't care what they say or do. I'm going to get Tara."

With her mind made up, she nodded to the still-empty room, and set off to the campus occult store. It wasn't very big, or as well stocked as the one back home, but Willow would manage. She always did.


	4. Mantra

**For Love**

Behind the counter, Susan smiled at Willow as she walked in. She knew Willow well from her frequent visits. She also knew that Willow knew her way around the shop quite well, so she left her alone.

Straight to the book section marked "Underworld, Undead, Afterlife, etc." Willow grabbed several books and glanced through them, making a little mental note of things she would need. Willow was in one-track-mind mode, her entire being focused on this series of tasks, that were very clear in her mind.

Get Books.

Get ingredients.

Learn spells.

Do spells.

Save Tara.

Nothing had ever made more sense.

Crossing swiftly to the ingredient section of the little shop, Willow placed candles, some linseed root, wild oak sap, in her bag. Basic stuff. For the more... interesting ingredients, she would go to Giles.

Willow didn't smile at Susan as she checked out. She saw nothing that was happening around her as she walked stoically to the library, her mind still revolving around that one phrase. Save Tara, it repeated, like a mantra in her mind. Save Tara.


	5. TARA

**For Love**

Willow set her bags softly down on an empty library table. For the first time in 4 months she felt alive, as if her life had a purpose again. Pulling up a blank document on her laptop, Willow began to type. She listed spells, ingredients, their purposes, and results. She made tables of what happened when you combined certain spells, certain rituals. Through extensive research, she broke down the wording of nearly a hundred spells, examining each rhyme, each tune, each utterance, and why they did what they did. How they did what they did. She worked for hours straight, and when the librarian approached her, concerned, and telling Willow that she had to leave, she had 82 pages of text. Filled with the words that would, eventually, save Tara.

Willow nodded at the elderly librarian, and clicked close on her document. A window popped up. 'Do you want to save your document?' It asked. Willow clicked yes. 'Please enter a title for your document,' The computer prompted. Willow thought for a moment, then typed four letters. She hit 'enter' and closed her laptop, and for the first time in nearly 4 months, Willow smiled. The letters were T. A. R . A.


	6. Desperate Success

**For Love**

Back in her room, her empty room, Willow sat on the bed. She hadn't eaten anything that day. She supposed she should, or she was going to feel the toll tomorrow, especially after another sleepless night. However, Willow didn't feel tired or hungry. Just invigorated. Lying back on the bed, she hugged herself, able to imagine she was hugging Tara, because Willow still wore her sweater.

So, hopping up, and settling in at her desk, Willow began to draw up charts linking words and their magical effects, herbs, spices and tones as well. She worked all through the night. Buffy never came to see her.

Not that Willow noticed. At that point, Willow wouldn't have noticed anything short of a tsunami; she was so ensconced in her work.

Willow didn't go to class that day. Or the day after. She was so obsessed she didn't stop for almost 5 days. She ate barely anything, she didn't shower. By the time she was finished, she had lost 11 pounds, her hair was oily and messy, her face dirty. But she had done it.

***Buff's POV***

Now Buffy was seriously worried. One day of missing class was seriously unusual for Willow, but two? Something had to be wrong. However, whenever Buffy stopped by, and knocked on the door, there was never any answer. She had seen Willow leave several times, and managed to sneak into the room one day while Willow was out on another trip to the library, maybe the magic shop.

_That place must be sold out by now!_ Buffy thought as she opened the door. It wasn't locked. What she saw made her jaw drop. The room was a shambles, there were scrolls, parchment, posters strewn everywhere. A few empty, most covered with writing. Books lay open, with scraps of paper sticking out at random places, pages torn and dog-eared. Now, Buffy was scared. This wasn't Willow, this wasn't her at all. Glancing at the bed, she saw a familiar sweater lying near a pillow, and then she knew. She understood. She knew what this was about. Tara.

Buffy called an emergency meeting of the Scoobies – sans Willow – and they decided to keep an eye on her, but let her do what she needed to do.

"She needs to work through this," Giles had said.

Xander and Dawn had wanted to offer their help. Giles refused. "She needs to work through this_, alone_," he had repeated gently.

So Buffy would wait. She would wait until her friend was in real danger, then she would save her best friend. She would save Willow; she always did.

This time, however, Buffy wouldn't be quite so lucky.


	7. Preparation

Willow slept well that night. Cuddled up with Tara's sweater, she dreamed of darkness, a darkness that covered everything. But then, out of inky blackness, came a light. It was shining, and it was shaped like Tara. It waded through the murky gloom and as it drew closer, Willow could tell that is was not Tara. This thing may have been light, but it exuded an evil Tara never could. As it drew nearer Willow, she felt it's icy stench. Senses seemed to be all melded into one in this dream world. She could see the sounds it was making, hungry sucking noises, curling out with tendrils that aimed to grab her, suck her in. Willow wasn't afraid though. She knew what she had to do. Holding up Tara's sweater, Willow screamed the name, the name that meant so much in the real world, and seemed to have even more value, more effect here.

"TARA!" She screamed. And it felt good. So she screamed more, yelling at the top of her lungs, and with each repetition of the name, the thing began to shrink back farther, and farther into the musk, until it was just another seed of evil in the darkness.

Willow opened her eyes, sore again, but not from crying. This time, they were sore because she had barely closed them for almost 5 days straight. Willow glanced at the clock. It was 4:29. Shock and disbelief crossed Willow's face. She'd goon to bed around 11 last night, so she had slept for over 17 hours!!!

Standing up, she saw for the first time what a state her room was in. Shaking her head at her own carelessness. Picking her way through the papers and books strewn about, Willow stepped into the bathroom. She gasped aloud at the sight of her face in the mirror. _Almost unrecognizable, _Willow thought.

She took a long shower, then set about cleaning up the room. It took her just under 3 hours.

It was about 8 then. Willow's stomach growled. Knowing there was nothing in the fridge, Willow walked to the café and ordered a lot of food. A _lot_ of food. Her hunger satiated, she fell back into her bed, asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

_In the morning, _she thought, pleased with herself, _In the morning I'll go get Tara._

That night, there were no dreams.

*****I know this wasn't exciting, but Im planning on the next one being super long. I should have it up by 11:00 am tomorrow!*****


	8. Entrance

Willow awoke with the dawn, to a clean room. She wasn't hungry, not with the amount of food she'd eaten the night before. And her entire body was filled with a sense of anticipation, as a child's might the night before Christmas. To Willow, what she was going to do today, was better than Christmas. Much better.

For the first time in ages, Willow went through her closet, selecting the skirt she knew Tara had loved, and the shirt she had last held Tara in. Before the bullet, that is. Before the blood. She slid her arms into Tara's sweater, smiling at the fluff as it tickled along her arms. _Now._ She thought. _Now I'm ready._

Dropping to the floor Indian style, on a cushion, inside the pentagram she'd prepared last night, Willow lit the candles surrounding her.

Willow pressed her quivering fingertips to her chest. She could feel her heart hammering, healthy and strong, pounding against the skin. And she hated it-she hated it for being while Tara's heart lay cold and still.

Grabbing the page she had printed off the previous night, Willow was shocked that it had come to so little. 5 days, over 100 pages of writing and research. All represented on this little piece of paper. The words that were going to fix everything – save Tara – were right here. Just 11 lines.

Taking a deep breath, Willow read through the page one last time, and closed her eyes. She began to chant in a deep voice, and the room started swirling around her, as the words began to work their magic. The words that would save Tara.

_Spirits all, hear my plea_

_Come hither in all your murky beauty_

_Come to me and help me find_

_That which was taken from me_

_A beauty once, hath been taken safely_

_To the underground aligned_

_I seek to follow her, to the realm of the once mighty_

_Now slain, who lie broken, only dreams_

_Take me to where she still walks, yet is confined_

_Send me to my darkest heart_

_And my broken dreams appease_

Willow gasped the last words, for the room was swimming now, in a kind of sick ballet. Small swirling shapes, seeming to have no more substance than light, appeared, swooshing down toward Willow. She screamed and then everything went black.

***Buffy's POV***

Buffy was walking toward her best friend's room, latte in one hand, muffin in the other. This had gone on long enough: it was time to snap Willow out of it. Then she heard the scream. She dropped the cup, splattering coffee and ice all over the floor, running as fast as she could down the hall. She ran, hoping against hope, that she would not be too late. Willow's scream had been one of panic, and Buffy only had time to wonder what her best friend had done this time, what magic she had messed with, before her slayer instincts kicked in, and Buffy kicked down the door...


	9. Journey Of Faith

***Still Buffy!***

Willow's room was empty. A soft breeze ruffled the lacy curtains, and Buffy's trained eyes flew to the pentagram on the floor. She sighed, thinking, _What have you done now, Willow?_

Then she saw the paper. Picking it up, Buffy read it to herself, her eyes growing wider with each line, the shock and dismay sinking deeper and deeper until Buffy read the last line.

"And my broken dreams appease..." Buffy whispered, terror in her eyes. Willow was in _way_ over her head here. They had been _through_ this already! Tara could not be brought back, she had died a 'human death by human means.'

But then Buffy's brain put it together. _Take me to where she still walks._

"Oh my God," Buffy gasped, pressing her hand to her forehead. "She went to go _get_ Tara. She's not bringing Tara back! She's going!"

The realization that she might have just lost her best friend forever hit her like a mallet. There was nothing she could do now, except go to Giles.

***Back to Willow! Yay!***

As her eyes adjusted to the murky gloom, Willow understood that it wasn't totally dark, it was just...dim. As she thought that, the lights began to come up, as if someone was hiding behind a curtain somewhere, with a dimmer board.

Turning in a circle, Willow began to see that she was still in her room. But everything was different. There was no noise, not a single smell, and Willow felt...lighter somehow. As if she were made of nothing more than light.

The room was different too. The walls were the stunning, shining blue of _her_ eyes. Tara's eyes. And on the ceiling, words swishing about slowly, written in ancient Greek. Willow knew those words; they were the poem she had painted on Tara's back, in the dreamscape.

"Tara..." Willow whispered, the customary stinging began in her eyes. As a tear rolled off her cheek, and hit the floor, a boom like thunder sounded and a whirlwind of light blew threw the wall. A tunnel formed, and Willow knew she had to go through it.

Stepping into the hole in the wall, that she knew should just cut into the bathroom, Willow could see that it extended for miles, maybe. Years. Maybe forever. There was no end in sight.

Willow gave not a second thought to the consequences of her actions, stepping into the tunnel and shuddering as a wave of freezing air hit her. Pulling Tara's sweater tighter around her, Willow continued into the unknown, bravely going where she could not see. She felt things around her, not solid beings, more like emotions, thoughts, pictures. She knew they were her memories of Tara, and they kept her going, as she walked through the tunnel that had changed into a wide passageway. When she looked behind her, there was no hole in the wall, no oval of light with which to escape. Willow had sealed her fate.


	10. Reunited

She walked for hours, the passageway changing again and again, until she reached a door. This was different - there hadn't been any doors, just doorways. Willow pressed her fingertips to the door, and a tingling sensation filled them. Drawing her hands away sharply, Willow watched with baited breath as symbols began to swirl around the door, in different colors and shapes.

_So pretty, _Willow thought. _They almost look like lucky charms!_

On the other side of the door, sounds like someone twisting a music box, and then a familiar tune began to play. The song Tara had sang for her, almost 2 years ago. Though she had never been able to recreate it exactly, the tune had never left her mind, and as she listened to it, the feelings of resentment and anger that she had been holding in came out.

Angry tears leaked down Willow's face and she pounded on the door. Once. Twice. 5 times, and she wouldn't stop; it felt so good to yell all the pain out.

Still slamming the door with her fists, Willow cried, "Why, Tara? Why did you have to leave me?" Now she was shouting, and the tears were pouring down her face uncontrollably.

In between sobs, Willow tried to scream, with all the strength she had left, but she couldn't. She sank to the floor, fists still thwacking weakly against the door.

The door changed, and now it was the door from the house, it was Willow and Tara's door, to the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom. And Willow knew, scrambling up, still sobbing, her chest heaving up and down, that Tara was on the other side of the door. That all her pain, her terror through the journey, had come to fruition at this moment. She even knew how to get it.

Smiling through her tears now, Willow knocked lightly on the door, 6 times, the special knock they had made up in case the gentleman, or worse, ever took their voices again. (And partially for fun.) ­_Rat-tat. Knock. Rat-tat._

The door banged open, and there she stood, solid and gorgeous. Tara. The thought barely had time to register in Willow's mind, because Tara was dashing through the doorway, and catching her as she threatened to fall again. Tara was there. Holding her. Hugging her, her arms wrapped around Willow like it had been years, instead of months that they hadn't seen each other.

Tara held her, as Willow sobbed and sober into her chest, clutching Tara tightly. Tara stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, and Willow raised her teary eyes to meet Tara's.

"Shhh, darling, sh, hush, baby, it's all right, you're all right. You're safe now. I'm here." Tara crooned, gently wiping the tears from her lover's face as she spoke, kissing Willow on the forehead once again.

Willow wasn't settling, however. She had waited too long, too long to see, to smell, to feel Tara again, and she raised her head, pressing her lips against Tara's.

Willow gasped. The lips were warm, not cold and dead, as she had expected. Tara was here. Maybe not alive again, but that didn't matter. Willow and Tara were together again, and that was all that mattered.

Disentangling herself from this stunning woman standing in front of her, Willow stood on her tiptoes and held her hands to the back of Tara's head, pulled her in closer, tasting her beloved as if it were the first time. Tara didn't resist, her arms strayed over Willow's back, pulling her in closer, tighter, as if saying, "I'll never let you go again."

Shoving Tara up against the wall, Willow took control in a way that Tara had only dreamed of. Willow's lips left Tara's, moving down her neck with such tender passion that both women started to cry again.

"I'm so sorry, Tara." Willow breathed as she kissed Tara's neck, her shoulders. "I should have come sooner, I should have come immediately, oh, I never should have let you go!"

Tara moaned with pleasure, but stopped at Willow's decree of guilt, pushing her away.

"Tara? I – what's wrong? Did I-"

Tara pressed a finger to Willow's lips. "Never," she breathed, "Think for a second, a _second_, that this is your fault in an yway. You are _not _to blame. You could not have stopped this." Taking Willow's hand, she pulled her through the doorway and into the room beyond.


	11. Too Long

They stepped into the room. It was an exact replica of Willow and Tara's bedroom, as of right before the shooting. Everything was identical, even the clothes in the closet, the schoolwork on the desk. Willow noticed that Tara was even wearing the same blue shirt. Looking down at herself, Willow saw that she was dressed in the same clothes she was wearing right before the bullet. There was no blood however, and Willow looked up as Tara spoke.

"In my time away, I've learned a lot. I understand a lot, now. I had to die-"

Willow opened her mouth to object but Tara held up her hand.

"I had to. I can't tell our why just yet, but in time you will understand. But there is a choice you need to make, Willow."

Willow pulled Tara to the familiar couch, pointing wordlessly. Tara grinned and sat down, patting her lap. Willow scorched on to the couch sideways, cuddling up to Tara, her head in her lap. Looking up into her beautiful blue eyes.

Softly, Tara leaned down and kissed Willow on the lips. "There is a choice, Willow."  
Willow knew. She didn't want to make it, though. Now she just wanted to stay here and gaze into her beloved's eyes, as if there was nothing more in the universe than those two piercing blue orbs.

"You know you have to choose, Willow." Tara persisted. "You've come down here, and you found what you were looking for. Will you live on, content in your knowledge that _I_ am content, or will you stay? Here, with me?"

Willow pouted. "Why can't you just come back through with me?"

Tara smiled. "You know I would like nothing more than to do that, love. But I can't. You must make your choice."

Turning towards her girlfriend's stomach, Willow wrapped her arms around Tara's waist. "Tomorrow," she murmured. "Choose later. Kiss now."

Giggling in her wonderful Tara-way, the blue-eyed witch kissed the top of Willow's hair. Willow, in turn, slipped her hands below Tara's shirt, sliding it up, kissing the skin as it was exposed.

"Alright," Tara sighed, looking more than content with that decision, "In the morning. Now c'mere! I've missed you so much..."

Beaming up Tara, the green-eyed witch crawled up her body and kissed Tara squarely on the mouth. Once. Twice. Again, and again, until she lay on top of her, and she was kissing her everywhere. Willow meant to leave not a single inch of skin untouched. It had been too long. Much, much, too long.


End file.
